Thread: Fiend's Embrace - IC Thread
Thursday, 18th May, 2006, 06:15 PM #1
Fiend's Embrace - IC Thread
The afternoon sun is already beginning its descent in the sky as you make your way into Eru Tovar. You know little of this frontier town on the edge of civilization, but a quick observation reveals that the town is people by nomadic warriors, commoners, merchants, travelers, and a few adventurers such as yourself. All told, Eru Tovar bustles with activity. Vendors vie with one another to hawk their wares, while travelers and locals clutch their money purses protectively. The smoky scent of rustic food fills the air. Lightly armored men with scimitars and tattoos marking them as Swords of the Tarkhan patrol the streets, ever vigilant in maintaining the peace and enforcing the Tarkhan's laws.
(OOC: Please role-play your character's arrival at the town, and let me know where you want to go. The appointed meeting with Arakk is at the Wyvern's Sting Inn, at sundown...judging from the sun's current position in the sky, that's about an hour from now.)
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Novice (Lvl 1)
- Join Date
- Feb 2005
- Montevideo, Uruguay
Ý Ignore Land Outcast
Another day, another destiny... Idivien doesn't remove his hood
With one hour for sundown the best I could do would be try and learn anything about this noble before meeting him face to face
"And you keep your beak closed... for the time being" Idivien's voice surprisedly is not muffled by the cloth over his mouth. At the same time a soft voice and a no-nonsense tone, delaying the pronunciation over "s".
Seeing the Swords of Tarkhan, the man's hand shoots instinctively under the cloak and grasps his rapier's serpent-skin wrapped pommel... he relaxes, reminds himself that he is here for a honest work... or at least a not outright dishonest work.
Feeling the Raven's talons tighten their grip, he musters "Yes, search information about the noble". Then he strides towards the nearest inn, tavern, or shop. He will try and find out something about his new employer.
1) Do we arrive all together? Or do we find out who we are going to work with at the inn?
2) Gather Information +6
Originally Posted by TrainzIdeas for developing..Level 10, essence of D&D as of November 17 2006
The Sky... The Sky... The Sky is on FIRE!!!
A 12-part Campaign Saga from EN Publishing
OOC: I had assumed that you would all arrive separately (which strains the limits of credibility, I know; assuming the five strangers just happen to arrive in town at roughly the same time is a stretch, but still, for the sake of convenience... )Originally Posted by Land Outcast
Spellbinder (Lvl 16)
- Join Date
- Apr 2003
- The hedge maze
Ý Ignore Whizbang Dustyboots
The Swords of the Tarkhan swing the heavy door open and Harval Barleybeard is momentarily blinded by the afternoon sunlight.
"'ow many days?" the dwarf croaks out.
They prod at him with their scimitars, herding him out of the stone shed he's been staying in long enough for it to smell like him for a week to come.
"Three days." They drop the dwarf's gear in a pile before him, and the dwarf checks each bit of gear before putting it on, heedless of the reactions his very hairy nude form is provoking, including causing several small children playing on this edge of Eru Tovar to burst into tears. His back is criss-crossed with lash marks and his wrists and ankles still bear welts where he was tied, spread-eagled, to the whipping posts. "Next time, maybe you won't get cute and punch the Tarkhan's own horse."
"... was drunk," is Harval's only reply. The guards snort a little to themselves, as though to suggest the dwarf being sober would be unthinkable. Finally, Harval is fully dressed. He looks from one guard to the other. "Leaving town soon, anyway."
"The Tarkhan's stablemaster will be glad to hear it."
The pair stand aside as Harval ambles down the dusty path, torn between getting a roast bit of meat from a stall or drinking his dinner at the Wyvern's Sting. In the end, he decides to do both.
Last edited by Whizbang Dustyboots; Friday, 19th May, 2006 at 02:24 AM.
Acolyte (Lvl 2)
- Join Date
- Dec 2003
Ý Ignore Rayex
Gnro - Lizard Favoured Soul
Silently walking around the streets, observing and absorbing the life of a "great, big city", Gnro carefully pulls her cowl down to hide her features. These big folk would certainly not appreciate a lizard in their street, she guess.
So this is life in the city. I already miss the forests. Wonder where this Wyvern is though.
Mustering up courage, she slowly walks through the streets, looking for someone nice-looking, perhaps someone blind, to ask for directions.
Last edited by Rayex; Friday, 19th May, 2006 at 04:49 PM.
Myrmidon (Lvl 10)
- Join Date
- Jan 2002
Ý Ignore Voadam
The tall armored elf strides down the thoroughfare shaking the trail dust from his form.
With the witch Elenora dead her pact making coven split and fled to the corners of Oerth. Aeligim's best lead, wrested from the dying breath of one of her goblin servitors, was that Sayla had flown to the Cold Marshes to attempt to restart the Brown Circle and complete her bargains with fiends. This collector's expedition would be just what Aeligim needed to enter the Marshes and get a feel for the unknown land and perhaps learn of a good guide for the area he could convince to help him track down the dangerous fiendslave and whatever minions she is gathering.
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Idivien looks around, and notices a merchant hawking meat pies, sausages on a stick, and other hearty fare from a streetside cart. He approaches, just as a dishevelled, battered looking dwarf with thick reddish hair is walking away. The tiefling makes an inquiry, to which the merchant stops and thinks for a moment.Originally Posted by Land Outcast
Idivien: Gather Information (1d20+6=21)
"Arakk, Arakk, let me see...yeah, I hard of 'im. Not from around these parts, I think he's from one of the cities way south, not sure which. He's a merchant, I guess, but he acts like some kind of nobleman. Spreads a lot of coin around, I hear. Speaking of which, that's got to be worth something to you, right?" The meat seller holds out a greasy palm, and smiles showing his filthy teeth.
Harval stops at a merchant's cart long enough to pick up a plate of salty, greasy meat. He wolfs it down before taking a half dozen steps away from the cart, even as a strange fellow with a dark head covering and a raven on his shoulder approaches.Originally Posted by Whizbang Dustyboots
Thirsty now, as always, Harval turns in the direction of the Wyvern's Sting.
Gnro spots an old woman seated on the step of one of the many low wooden buildings that make up Eru Tovar. She decides to try her luck, and heads over to ask about the Wyvern's Sting.Originally Posted by Rayex
The old woman, fortunately, is half-blind but also a bit hard of hearing. Gnro has to shout her request three times, but finally makes herself known.
"Eh? EH? Oh, the Wyvern's Sting, sure, it's just a block thataway." The crone points down the road. "But, what's a little girl like you want at a place like that, hmm? It's no place for kids."
Novice (Lvl 1)
- Join Date
- Dec 2005
Ý Ignore Phyrrus
Walking down the street of Eru Tovar, it took Ortak about five minutes to solve the mystery of why people grew silent and stared at him as he passed by them. At first he thought his time on the road had made him unfit to walk the street, but while he did carry the smell of the road on him, he felt it was no worse than many in the frontier town, and still a great deal better than some that roamed the street. It was not until Korto repositioned himself on his shoulder that Ortak realized that the townsfolk stared not at him, but at his familiar. Kortoís silver skin caught the fading rays of the sun and magnified them creating an aura that Ortak knew the hawk loved. While Ortak had long since embraced Boccobís tenets of humility, Korto thrived on being seen for what he was, a sentient work of art. Ortak could only imagine how his companionís ego would grow as time passed and the hawk became more aware of itself and its surroundings.
Stopping to wipe his brow off with his sleeve, Ortak recalled all he could of the local customs and laws of the area. While his main field of study had always been the more obscure facets of history and how magic had shaped it, all of Boccobís followers normally could be counted on knowing a little bit on a broad range of subjects.
As his mind to began to sort through the collected information within, Korto began to grow impatient of staying in the shadows of a building and voiced his displeasure by readjusting once more, allowing his talons to put the slightest pressure on Ortakís shoulder.
Resuming his walk, as well as wondering for the thousandth time on who was truly in charge of their relationship, Ortak began scanning the wooden signs with names and pictures burned into them.
I canít imagine that with a name of the Wyvernís Sting it should be too hard to find.
Last edited by Phyrrus; Friday, 19th May, 2006 at 08:47 PM.
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